


Beer and Pizza

by Rocky_T



Series: Tightrope [16]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:40:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26733001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rocky_T/pseuds/Rocky_T
Summary: Kathryn and Tom have dinner together. Follow-up to "Proven Guilty."
Relationships: Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway, Chakotay/Seska (Star Trek), Kathryn Janeway & Tom Paris, Kathryn Janeway/Owen Paris
Series: Tightrope [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1797067
Comments: 11
Kudos: 18





	Beer and Pizza

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Seema for the beta.

“Can I give you a hand with that?” Chakotay asked.

Janeway looked up from where she stood in the doorway of her cabin, trying to balance several items without dropping them. “Yes, please,” she said gratefully.

The door of his own quarters slid shut behind him as Chakotay strode over and relieved her of a wide flat box. It felt warm, nearly hot to the touch, and tantalizing smells rose from within despite the closed cover. “Anything else?” he asked.

“Thanks, I’ve got these,” she said, tucking two beer bottles under each arm and straightening up. She was out of uniform, wearing a pale blue shirtwaist dress and flat sandals, and her hair was in a loose ponytail instead of its usual bun. The overall effect was to make her look younger than she usually appeared. “But I would certainly appreciate your accompanying me to the turbolift."

“Where are you off to?” he asked with a smile as he fell into step beside her. “Having a picnic somewhere?”

“Not quite,” she said with an answering smile. “I’m having dinner with Tom.”

“In his cabin?” Chakotay asked. At her nod, he added, “Doesn’t the host typically provide the food?”

Janeway bit back a sigh. “He invited me, but I realize there is a certain amount of baggage with having the captain over to dine. At the very least, I didn’t want to spend too many of his replicator credits, so I offered to bring the main dish and he’ll do dessert.” She pointed with her chin at the box he was holding. “Hence the beer and pizza.” 

The turbolift arrived and they got inside. “Deck nine,” Janeway said, leaning back against the wall and rearranging the bottles so she held them more comfortably. 

“I’ve been hearing rumors of a vibrant trade on the black market for replicator credits. It must be nice being able to cash in on your relationship with the captain,” Chakotay said lightly, but the corners of his mouth turned down.

“Hold on,” Janeway objected. “It’s not like that at all. I offered - Tom isn’t taking advantage of me in any respect, and certainly not in replicator credits.” Perhaps seeking to lighten the mood a bit, she continued, “As a matter of fact, since I eat most of my meals in the Mess Hall, I have more than enough credits available – I only spend them on coffee.” 

Chakotay knew how important this dinner was to her, so he gamely took the bait. “I’ve seen your daily coffee consumption, and that’s not a small amount,” he said jokingly.

Just then, the turbolift halted on deck nine and the door opened. “Where are you headed?” Janeway asked curiously as he handed her back the pizza box.

“Oh, Bendera and I are going to shoot some pool at Sandrine’s,” he said easily.

“Well, considering Holodeck One is on deck six, I appreciate your going out of your way to help me,” she said.

“Not at all,” he said with another smile. “My pleasure.”

“Have a nice evening,” she said.

“You, too,” he said as the door slid shut. He then sighed and said, “Deck eleven.” He checked his chrono; this little interlude with the captain hadn’t cost him _too_ much time. But even if it had, he knew Seska wouldn’t object to his coming late, as long as he showed up.  
***  
“Hey, is that what I think it is?” Tom asked as ushered her inside. “Pizza? And you even brought it in an authentic cardboard box!”

“How else would you deliver it?” Janeway said, pleased that her choice had worked out so well. “It’s the recipe from Angelo’s Pizza back in San Francisco, if you’re familiar with it.”

“The one on Market Street in the Embarcadero?” he asked. “Yeah, I’ve got a lot of fond memories of that place.” He lifted the lid. “Toppings – peppers, mushrooms, onions, pepperoni… mm, good choices.”

“I wasn’t sure which ones you preferred,” Janeway said, “so I got my favorites.” She gestured with the beer bottles. “Where should I put these?”

“Here, on the coffee table,” Tom said as he put down the pizza box on the same surface. “I got some plates and glasses, even napkins.”

“All the amenities,” Janeway said as she sat down on the couch. She glanced around the room. It was a typical junior officer’s quarters, consisting largely of one main room, with a small sleeping chamber behind a closed door. A few PADDs lay on the dining table, competing for space with some knickknacks including a model of an early starship and an Aztec chess set carved from marble. There were no holophotos anywhere. “Everything looks very nice.”

“I’ve cleaned up some since the last time you were here,” Tom said ruefully, referring to when Janeway had come by to see him after the incident with the Benari. 

“Those were extenuating circumstances. This is fine, Tom,” Janeway said firmly. 

He sat down next to her and handed her an open bottle and glass. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” she said and helped herself to a slice of pizza as well.

“Oh, God, I missed this,” he said, biting into a slice of his own. A look of pure pleasure crossed his face.

“I’m sure Neelix wouldn’t object if you gave him a recipe to follow,” Janeway said, her eyes dancing. “In fact, he’d probably welcome the challenge to create authentic Terran pizza.”

“Don’t think he hasn’t offered to whip me up one,” Tom said with a groan. “I shudder to think just what he could do to pizza. Knowing Neelix, he’d start by substituting leola root for most of the toppings…”

“OK, OK, I see your point!” Janeway said, laughing. “I agree, best not to let him desecrate a classic like this!”

Tom reached out and filched a round of peperoni from her. “Hey!” she objected.

“You deserve that for even coming up with such an idea!” Tom said teasingly. “Sorry, that piece just looked so good I couldn’t resist.”

“There’s plenty more where that came from,” Janeway pointed out. “I think we may be hard-pressed to finish eight slices between us.” She took a long swallow from her glass. “In fact, I don’t think I can eat more than two.”

Tom smiled. “In my ill-spent youth, I could put away a whole pie at one sitting. But now, I agree with you, six is more than enough for me.” He paused. “You look nice, by the way. It’s rare to see you out of uniform.”

She’d purposely chosen to wear civvies as a way to symbolize that this evening was meant to be informal as opposed to duty. “It _is_ nice for a change.” Her glance fell on his outfit. He was wearing tan slacks, a cream-colored shirt, and a gold lamé vest. “You look, uh, nice yourself.”

He grinned as if knowing exactly what she meant. “Like the vest?”

She tilted her head to one side, considering. “Actually, it suits you,” she said decisively.

He leaned back, having finished a fourth slice. “This was really great.” He glanced at her. “I have to say I didn’t expect you to pick pizza for our meal.”

“My family are Traditionalists,” she said, describing quickly what this meant in terms of her upbringing.

“So you played tennis instead of Parises Squares, and your mother never allowed a replicator in her kitchen?”

“It wasn’t quite that bad,” Janeway answered. “She _did_ acknowledge the convenience factor of having a replicator, particularly after my sister and I had both left home, and she was alone after my father died. She said there was something lonely about only cooking for one person.”

Tom nodded. “Well, as you probably know, we were anything but Traditionalists, which might be why my tastes ranged the way they did.” He began to speak of his love of pop culture from the late 20th century, and she nodded at the correct intervals, happy to listen to him expound on a subject he clearly felt strongly about. She felt relaxed and comfortable, and was glad to see that he did as well. The conversation then swung to leisure pursuits and holoprograms they enjoyed. 

“I’ve got a new holoprogram I just started recently,” she admitted. “It’s in the style of the Bronte Sisters—” At his look of incomprehension, she said, “Didn’t you ever read _Jane Eyre_ in school?”

He shook his head. “Sorry, I never studied anything except modern literature. Good old 24th century.”

She could see he didn’t consider that genre worth recreating as a holoprogram. “So what do you like?”

“Have you ever heard of television?” he asked, leaning forward. “Kind of like holoprograms, only two-dimensional, and the viewer was passive, not an active participant.”

“Sounds rather limited,” she couldn’t help saying and immediately hoped he wouldn’t take offense.

“Can’t argue with you there,” he acknowledged. “Still, the scope of the imagination involved…” He began to talk eagerly about science fiction and fantasy, and something he called “Captain Proton,” though she couldn’t quite tell if it was something he’d created or had only read about. As he went on to describe a particular episode with great enthusiasm, his face was animated and his eyes lit up. Watching him, she thought how she hadn’t known Owen at this age, had no idea if he’d had similar interests or hobbies. By the time she came into his life, he was well established in his career, the staid and famous Admiral Paris. 

“So tell me,” Tom said, breaking into her reverie, “Did your Traditionalist upbringing include sports?”

“You were correct in what you said earlier about tennis instead of Parises Squares,” she said. “I also took up skiing.”

“We also skied,” Tom remarked. “When I was a kid, we used to go skiing in Aspen.”

“Oh, yes, we were just there last Christmas,” Janeway responded without thinking and then realized from the look on his face that she had inadvertently emphasized, with one sentence, how Tom’s childhood home had broken up and she had in short order stepped in as the other woman. To cover the awkwardness, she said, “You know, I think I could manage some dessert now.”

Tom got up and went to the replicator. Moments later, he returned carrying two large glass dishes, filled to overflowing. “Ice cream sundaes!” he announced.

She laughed. “My God, look at the extravagant toppings! Cherries and nuts and chocolate syrup…you can hardly see the ice cream underneath.”

“Isn’t that the point?” Tom said innocently, “to use the ice cream as the base for what’s _really_ important?”

“With your youthful metabolism, you don’t have to worry about all this sugar, plus the calories from all that pizza,” she said.

“You don’t have anything to worry about either, you look good,” he said firmly. “Especially in that dress.”

“Thanks,” she said, a bit awkwardly.

They finished their ice cream and then she started trying to clear up. 

“No, don’t bother, I’ll take care of it,” Tom said lazily. “It’s the least I could do after you brought the food. Can’t expect the guests to clean up too!”

Janeway rose to her feet. “Thank you again for a lovely evening, Tom. This was truly enjoyable.”

“Thank you for the pizza,” Tom said as he came to stand next to her. “I had a nice time, too.”

Impulsively, she leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek. He reared back in obvious shock, and she was surprised as well. Where had that come from? 

She felt her color rise. “Well, I’ll see you on the bridge in the morning. Good night, Tom.”

“Good night, Kathryn,” he responded, as she quickly left his cabin.


End file.
